Girlhood
by freerangeegghead
Summary: In which we follow young Alison DiLaurentiis as she comes of age. Rated T-M for themes of family, gender, sexuality, identity, friendship and love. A/U. Mentions of canon (but does not/will not follow show/books.) Femslash, various pairings, Ali-centric,not romance-centric. Character-study. Explores characters. Coming-of-age, family, drama,angst,friendship,maybe romance (?)
1. Chapter 1

**GIRLHOOD**

Important: _**Please read first before proceeding to chapter 1. **_

Summary: _**In which we follow young Alison DiLaurentiis as she comes of age in a small town in Pennsylvania.**_

Pairing: _**None (no ship)**_

Characters: _**Alison DiLaurentiis**_

TV Series: _**Pretty Little Liars (ABC Family)**_

Genre: _**Coming-of-age, friendship, family, drama, **__**not**__** romance-centric**_

Rating: _**Rated T ~ M - For themes, language, violence, substance experimentation, scenes of a possibly intimate nature. No smut (underage or otherwise). **_

Spoilers:_** None. A/U. Mentions of canon (but does not/will not follow show/books.). Characters might be OOC.**_

Warnings: _**Explores themes/ideas about gender, sexuality, identity, homosexuality, homophobia, race, racism, sexism, patriarchy, violence, etc. Trigger warnings apply. Creative liberties used for storytelling purposes. Character-centric. Lots of exposition, maybe even plot. Could get boring. **_

Inspirations: _**Richard Linklater's "Boyhood", "Before Sunrise", "Before Sunset" and "Before Midnight", Wes Anderson movies, Terence Malick's "Tree of Life". **_

Why though: _**Because Alison is one of the most fascinating characters on the show. Have always meant to write a PLL fic on Alison. So, if you must ask, I am team Ali all the way.**_

Other A/Ns: _**Due to extremely busy schedule, will regrettably be unable to reply to PMs, reviews, etc. but thanks in advance for polite, kind, constructive reviews and favs, follows, etc. Will try to update regularly. This story might take ten chapters or more. **_

Thanks to: _**kickangel – as always, for everything. **_

Disclaimer: _**Nothing owned, nothing gained, pure fiction. **__**Skip/don't read**__**, if it's not your cup of tea. **__**You've been sufficiently warned. Read at your own risk.**__** If you still want to read it despite the above, then enjoy and happy reading! Thank you.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Alison is six years old the first time her mommy Jessica takes her to America.

Her mommy promises her it's "only a holiday", that they'll be back in Johannesburg faster than one can say Jackie Robinson. Ali thinks Jackie Robinson is her mommy's best friend, or some famous man. She doesn't get that it's just an expression until she's older. Her mommy likes to use a lot of words that young Ali doesn't understand. Sometimes she thinks her mommy might as well be from another planet. She doesn't ask her mommy what things mean sometimes because her mommy always seems impatient and makes this sound that's like a "tsk" sound whenever Ali asks her anything and then they end up arguing.

Like on the plane ride, which was very long and boring and tiring, Ali would ask her mom if she could get a coke or a sprite from the tray or maybe some peanuts or how long the flight would take and her mom would just look at her with her stone-cold eyes and impatiently tell her something curt (she thinks maybe it's "shut up" but she's not sure). So Ali would stare at her mommy, make a face, lean back on her chair, fold her arms together and sulk, or hold her breath until her mommy either loses her temper or gives in. Sometimes her mother just ignores her but even at six, it is hard to ignore a child like Ali.

In fact, on the plane, when she does this, the pretty flight attendants come around to her with coloring books, crayons and a cute stuffed teddy for her to cuddle with. Once or twice, one of the flight attendants pass her by and smile or ask her if she's alright or if there's anything else she needs. She smiles her sweetest smile, blue eyes dancing in delight at the attention, shakes her head and says, "No, thank you." Between the screaming baby down the aisle and a couple of boys shouting and shoving each other and generally giving the flight attendants a hard time – Ali is an angel. Ali knows this. She is six and she already knows how to make grown-ups dote on her.

Like her daddy. Her daddy adores her. Her daddy really loves her. Her daddy gives her anything. When she wants something, like that horse for Christmas, she just throws a tantrum or holds her breath until he gives in. Sometimes screaming and stamping her foot or lying down on the floor and pounding it with her little fists also helps, but she doesn't do it as often. When she does this, her daddy would look at her with this disappointed look, tell her she's been a bad girl and she hates that.

Her mommy's different from her daddy. She knows her mommy doesn't hate her or anything. She knows her mommy loves her. But her young mind also knows life is easier if her daddy is around. She misses her daddy. She wonders why her daddy couldn't come. Her mommy says they could use the warmth of American summers and she thinks maybe her daddy could use it, too. He's been working a lot and staying out late a lot and when he's home it's a bit different. She could hear her mommy and daddy talk very loudly to each other even though it's a big house and her room is at the other end of the hallway, when they think she can't hear them or when they think she's asleep. When she hears their voices like that she curls up on her bed and pulls her teddy bear, Paddington, closer. Paddington was a bear her father bought for her on a business trip in London. It's her most favorite toy in the world.

Which is why she is very upset that her mother forgot to pack Paddington for her. It feels weird not having Paddington around. She has nobody to hug or talk to, like right now, when she's bored and there's nowhere else to go and the plane feels weird moving around like that and her ears are all funny and she can't hear anything and all she wants is to get out of plane.

It's her first long flight. When she asks the flight attendant how long the flight's going to take, she replies "about seventeen hours, give or take". Ali doesn't quite understand it because of something called time zones, and how it's day (or maybe night) in Johannesburg, and they're going west, and they have to change time zones, but they're on a plane, so it's either morning, or noon or night, depending on where they actually are. She thinks it's pretty cool. It's like time traveling in one of those old shows her daddy likes to watch. But mostly she thinks it's confusing, because she wants to sleep but she's not sure if she's sleepy or not and she's beginning to have a headache and it feels like something is pushing at her eyeballs or hammering behind her eyes. She tries to watch something on the screen in front of her, but she doesn't like Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, or Men in Black II or Spiderman and is about to flick through more on the menu when her mommy says, "Will you just pick one already?!" and so she chooses Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, even though she's already watched it with her father and promptly falls asleep right at the time where Harry discovers Tom Riddle's diary can talk.

Mostly she misses her daddy and she realizes she's sad.

* * *

><p>The airport is huge.<p>

But then again, the airport in Johannesburg is huge, too.

But mostly it's confusing and it's filled with a lot of people rushing about with luggage and kids and voices overhead and people keep bumping into her, or their bags keep hitting her on the head and she's sleepy and tired and her eyes and head feels like what the basilisk feels in the Chamber of Secrets when the bird tears out its eyes with its claws and beak.

Her mother is equally as tired and after what seems like hours standing in a line at customs and immigration and at the baggage carousel watching endless luggage turn round and round, she finds their luggage – her mother's large beige one, and her smaller plastic pink one with the handles and step out of the airport.

They are picked up from the airport by a man named Nigel. Nigel is in a suit and is very polite, calls her mommy, "Ma'am" or "Mrs. DiLaurentiis" and Ali, "Miss Alison" or "Little Miss", opens the door for them, and drives them away in a shiny black car that looks expensive because she can see the impressed looks from people around them. Nigel asks how Ali is and Ali smiles and replies proudly that she is fine, thank you and the man laughs in amusement and she wonders why. Later she thinks it's maybe because she has an accent, but Nigel is a nice enough man and she thinks maybe he just finds her cute and he says so. She thinks Nigel is a family friend or something.

The car is cool, the windows up, no music is playing, Nigel quiet as he drives them away from the airport. She presses her face against the window, in the back of the car, staring out at the sights in front of her.

The city's a bit like Johannesburg, but then also, not like Johannesburg at all. First of all, there are tall buildings and taxis and recognizable places like McDonald's and KFC and Burger King, but at the same time, there's no OK!Bazaar and Nando's and Hungry Lion, too, which are the places she sees in Johannesburg.

It's summer, so she sees a lot of people in the streets in their shorts and shirts, where back home, when they left, the people were all bundled up in winter wear. She sees a lot more white people here, too, in their shiny new cars, or just walking down the street, and she finds it weird, because back home, there were more black than white, with a few colored in between. Once, somebody joked that she was colored too, and her mommy got so mad about it, but her father had just smiled and said, "So what? There's no harm in that" and she looks at her daddy and her daddy's mommy and daddy and she realizes that their skin is closer to hers than her mommy's. Her mommy would definitely be called white in Africa, she has the same brown hair and blue eyes as Ali, but with Ali, people stop first and think, because it's hard to figure out what she really is. She's got beautiful golden skin and she has curly, light brown hair but she has blue, blue eyes, like the color of the sky on a bright African summer's day and she isn't as pale as the Afrikaners or as dark as the blacks and people wonder.

They roll into the city and she again realizes how very much like Johannesburg the city is, because it's as confusing and energetic, cars and buses and people and billboards and familiar places – McDonald's and KFC and Burger King again.

Nigel clears his throat then and reaches for the radio, turns it on, turns the volume down low and Ali begins to hear familiar music and she feels relief flooding over her. In the span of a few minutes she hears Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, Christina Aguilera, Kylie Minogue and Britney Spears, all popular singers on the South African radio, too. She can even sing a few of the lyrics or a few notes from the songs they are singing, although she thinks "Can't Get You Out of my Head" is the most fun song. She glances at her mother and she can see her mother's lips curl in disdain as she clutches at the pearls on her neck. Her mother hates pop music. She thinks it's barbaric. If she had her way she'd make Ali listen to classical music only. In fact, she'd made Ali take piano lessons with this scary white Afrikaner woman who never smiled. Classical music is okay, but listening to Beethoven continuously can get boring. Either that or listen to Barney, and Ali hates Barney. She really, really hates Barney. She hates that he's a talking dinosaur. She hates that he's purple. She hates how he sings.

Then again, Mommy thinks a lot of things are bad. She even thinks Harry Potter is bad and she and Ali get into a lot of fights over it. Her mommy must have been very tired on the plane because she let Ali watch Harry Potter even though she doesn't like Ali watching it. Her daddy lets her listen to music or watch whatever Ali wants, as long as it doesn't have the F-words or other bad words. Pop music is okay because it's pop music. Her father even lets her listen to Kwaito music or Ladysmith Black Mambazo or the Soweto String Quartet, music that her mother doesn't particularly like. Sometimes she wonders why her mother stayed six years in Africa if she didn't like a lot of stuff about Africa in the first place. Her parents argue about a lot of things, actually, right down to where Ali should go to for church on Sundays. Her daddy wants her to go to the Catholic Church, since he and the rest of the family are Catholic. He'd been brought up a Catholic and he'd once seen Pope John Paul II in the 90s and it changed his life, he told Ali. But her mother is a Protestant and talking about church can end up being an argument in and of itself. She doesn't mind going to the Cathedral though. It means she gets to spend time with her daddy and her grandma and grandpa, and she genuinely likes taking part in the communion and eating the body of Christ and smelling the incense and listening to the priest and the colorful, bright windows and the crosses and Mama Mary and everything else. Her mommy doesn't think so. Her mommy doesn't believe in the Pope and in mass and in the Apostle's Creed and in the rosary and in the "Our Father".

She doesn't like it when her parents argue because of her, because then her daddy would sometimes disappear for hours and it worries her. But her daddy told her he's coming to America too, after he's sorted some things in his office, and so she's excited to be with him.

In the middle of Celine Dion singing "A New Day has Come", Ali falls asleep.

* * *

><p>Ali wakes up to the feel of soft pink sheets and soft pink pillows and billowing pink curtains and a four-poster bed and she immediately realizes she's home in her mommy's home. She had woken up from her nap in the car when Nigel announces, "We're home" and she opens her eyes just in time as the car is turning down a long, lonely, tree-lined road, then up a hill, stopping in front of a large, wrought-iron gate with Rosehill Heights on it, opened by a woman she later is introduced to as Nora, who calls her "Miss", and her mom, "Mrs. DiLaurentiis" or "Ma'am" like Nigel. Nora pushes the gates open and Nigel drives the car up a long, graveled roadway, a manicured lawn and stops in front of a large house surrounded by trees. The house is big, to six-year old Ali's eyes. It seems bigger than their house in Johannesburg, but she isn't sure. As Nigel opens their car doors, and brings their luggage inside, her mother doesn't say anything. She goes up the stairs and disappears down the hallway. She doesn't see her til later. She finds her in a room with an old lady lying on it, and her mother tells her it's her grandmother. Her grandmother looks pale and sick but she smiles and welcomes Ali with open arms, gushing and cooing and happy that Ali is there. Ali hasn't met her before but she is pleased that she likes her as much as her grandparents in Africa adore her. She wonders where her grandfather is, but Nora later tells her her grandfather has "gone to meet his Maker".<p>

She gets up and goes to the window, taking a peek at the view outside. There is a man on the grounds, taking care of the rosebushes growing in and around the lawn. It isn't Nigel, so she knows she hasn't met this man before. Nigel has gone home, she thinks. The air is crisp, clean, fresh, better than the air inside the plane, and she inhales it, takes a deep breath, smiles to herself. She feels a mixture of childish excitement because everything is new and exciting and she's already thinking about the many places in the big house that she can explore, the large front yard and backyard that she can roll around in, the trees she can climb, the people she can meet, the many endless hours in the day that she can use for playing. Her grandmother have promised to take her everywhere, so she is looking forward to that, too. She has so much to tell her best friend, Tamsin, her pretty, olive-skinned, best friend – from her plane ride to the house to the many things she will enjoy this summer. Most of all, she can't wait to see her father, so they can go around Rosewood together, and she smiles to herself, clapping her hands together in excitement.

This is going to be one fun summer holiday, she thinks.

It's going to be the best _ever_.

Little does she know that this little trip will change her life forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

That first summer Ali spends in America is magical for her.

The house itself provides her with endless possibilities.

She spends days exploring the house. Her mother has suddenly become very busy, calling on the phone, going online, meeting with a man in a suit and taking care of Ali's grandmother. Sometimes when she passes by her grandmother's room, she sees her mother with a bowl and a spoon, talking to her grandmother in a soft voice, coaxing her grandmother to eat. Once, she sees her grandmother push the spoon away and another time, she sees her grandmother push the bowl away, spilling soup on the floor. She watches between the cracks as her mother jumps back, brushes her clothes away, sighs and says, "Mother." She is surprised that her mother doesn't get angry. If that were her, her mother would have already sent her to her room. Once when her grandmother has been particularly difficult, she hears her mother in the bathroom, sobbing. This surprises Ali even more. She's never seen nor heard her mother cry. Her mother, Jessica DiLaurentiis, is one of the strongest women Ali knows. That she would hear her mother sobbing makes Ali afraid. She wants to go to her mother and put her little arms around her mother's neck, but she thinks maybe her mother wants to be alone, and so she leaves her alone.

And so Ali spends her days alone herself, going through the rooms of the house, walking around in the lawn, or amongst the trees in the back. One of those days of exploring, she discovers the attic, and amidst the dust and cobwebs and boxes covered by white sheets, she starts to look over things. She sees old framed photos, of her mother in school, wearing uniforms, at parties, at her graduation, at the beach, in front of buildings. She sees a picture of her mother, with a baby in her arms – herself, she thinks. In other pictures, she sees herself, a baby, with her mother and her father. She sees stacks of books. She sits on the dusty floor and goes over the books, and sees Dr. Seuss books- "Cat in the Hat", "Horton Hears a Who", "The Lorax" and "The Grinch". She sees old paperback novels, Hardy Boys, Bobsey Twins, Famous Five, Nancy Drew – she opens one book and sees the name "Jessica DiLaurentiis" written in a childish handwriting and she knows the books once belonged to her mother.

She opens "Horton Hears a Who" and starts to read.

* * *

><p>Sometimes she spends her days exploring the grounds around her grandmother's house. Beyond the house, at the back, there is a pleasant little hinterland through which a stream hurries through a wide and stony bend. Here there is a smooth freshness of air, alive with the voice of the stream. The flat stones are hot in the sun and a heat-haze wavers above the river-bed. Here she spends days sitting on the stones, reading Dr. Seuss books. Sometimes she walks over the stones, over springy lichen and patches of dry grass, green grass, prickly shrubs and sprawling bushes, and on up farther upstream into a patch of dark trees until Nora has to come out and shout at her to not go too far. Sometimes Nora accompanies her but oftentimes as long as she promises to stay within sight of the woman, she can stay by the stream. Ali realizes she likes being alone sometimes, reading, sunlight streaming overhead, the stream pleasantly gurgling, lulling her into a certain kind of peace.<p>

* * *

><p>Ali's mom is being extra nice and kind to her. She takes Ali out to eat at a restaurant or to church sometimes, when she's not busy taking care of her grandmother or working. She takes Ali to the Catholic church in town and brings her to the Sunday school where a pretty blonde teacher named Mary teaches them stories from the Bible. Ali likes Mary. She's nice and kind and has a soothing voice. Ali doesn't really care so much for Sunday school, but seeing the church comforts her a little, it makes her feel a bit closer to her dad.<p>

In Sunday school, she meets a girl, with light brown skin and short hair and jumper and sneakers. At first she thinks the girl is a boy and she goes up to the girl and asks her so. "Are you a girl or a boy?" she demands.

The girl turns bright red and shakes her head, vehemently. "No."

"Why are you dressed like a boy?" Ali asks, curious.

The girl purses her lips. "No, I'm not. My dad says I can wear what I want."

Ali tilts her head then, looking at the girl before she sticks her hand out. "My name's Ali."

"Emily," the girl mutters.

Ali slowly grins. "Hi, Emily."

Emily smiles. She hesitates, looking at Ali with curious eyes, before she finally says, a little shyly, "You have the prettiest, bluest eyes I've ever seen. _Ever._"

Ali's smile grows, pleased at the compliment. "Thank you."

She decides she likes Emily.

* * *

><p>She also meets two other girls that summer. She meets Shana and Spencer.<p>

She'd been in Rosewood a couple of weeks when she wakes up one morning, wanders into the kitchen and finds two girls, one olive-skinned, the other pale, arguing over milk and toast.

"No you're not."

"Are, too."

"Are not."

"Are, too."

"Are not."

She stands, watching them, as Nora ambles over, smiles, rubs Ali's head gently and says, "There you are. Have some toast."

"What are they talking about?" Ali asks Nora, staring at the two girls.

Spencer overhears her and looks at her.

"So, what do you think?" Spencer asks her.

Ali looks at her and asks, "About what?"

Spencer says, "Well, are you a Gryffindor, a Ravenclaw, a Slytherin, or a Hufflepuff?"

"I think I'm a Gryffindor," Shana says with a smile, "'Cause I'm brave and stuff."

Her reply makes Spencer roll her eyes and start their argument all over again. "You wish."

Shana stares her down. "Everyone wishes they were Gryffindor."

When Spencer makes a face, Shana puts her milk down and says, "Fine, what am I?"

Spencer tilts her head and says, "A Hufflepuff. Definitely a Hufflepuff."

It's Shana's turn to make a face. "Nobody wants to be a Hufflepuff."

"Everyone wants to be a Hufflepuff," Spencer argues.

"Then _you _be a Hufflepuff."

Spencer huffs. "No way. I'm a Ravenclaw."

Shana snorts. "Yeah, 'cause you're a real smartypants."

This sets off another round of arguing. After watching them argue back and forth, Ali speaks up and says, "I think I'm a Slytherin."

Both Shana and Spencer stop and stare at her.

"What? Slytherin?" Spencer asks, confused, as if she cannot believe her ears. She shudders. "You can't be a Slytherin." She looks at Ali haughtily.

Ali looks at her defiantly. "Why not?" she asks evenly.

Spencer replies, "Nobody wants to be a Slytherin. That's scary."

Ali shrugs. "Who says?"

"I say," Spencer responds confidently.

"Why?" Ali asks.

"Because I said so."

Ali sticks her chin out and stares Spencer down. "Well, I don't care. I can be whoever I want to be. And I want to be a Slytherin."

Ali continues. "Besides, I think Slytherin is cool. Plus they can speak snake and stuff, so."

Shana stares at her like she's grown an extra head, and the silence stretches. Shana grins. Ali grins back at her.

Nora breaks the silence and introduces them to Ali. "Ali, this is Shana. I told her to drop by because her grandmother's a bit busy right now."

Shana smiles and says, "It's nice to meet you."

"And this is..."

"I'm Spencer," Spencer interrupts Nora. "Hastings. My dad, Peter Hastings, is a lawyer and he's having a meeting with your mom." She reaches out her hand in a formal handshake. Later, Spencer's father comes out and Spencer introduces him to Ali.

"Alison," Ali replies, taking Spencer's hand in a brief handshake. "DiLaurentiis."

"I know," Spencer says, matter-of-factly, rolling her eyes.

Nora nods, adds, "Spencer is Mr. Peter Hasting's daughter. Mr. Hastings is also one of your mother's oldest friends. He's the family lawyer. He's here taking care of business."

Ali nods. Ali briefly thinks Spencer is a bit too annoying for her taste. After Nora gives Ali her milk and toast, both girls look at Ali curiously.

Finally Spencer speaks up. "Hey, if you're African, how come you're not black?"

Shana looks at her and says, "Hey! You can't ask her questions like that!"

Spencer rolls her eyes. "She talks funny. I was just curious." She turns to Ali and asks eagerly, "So, like, do you live in trees and stuff? And hunt your food? And kill it with your own bare hands? Like when I was watching this documentary on National Geographic and Discovery Channel and..."

Shana just stares at her in disbelief. "Hey, you can't talk to her like that!"

Spencer glares at her. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just wondering..."

Nora says, "Girls, girls, take it easy..." She looks at Spencer sternly and says, "Spencer, don't be rude. We don't ask questions like that here. Apologize to Ali now."

Spencer makes a face and mutters an apology to Ali. Ali thinks she really _is_ annoying.

Shana turns to Ali. "Sorry about her. She's white."

Spencer turns bright red and makes to grab Shana's shirt but Nora grabs her in time. "Girls. Stop it. Why don't you go outside and play or something?"

Shana shakes her head. "It's okay, Nora. I have to go home anyway." She turns to Ali. "Do you want to come? I can ask my brother, Jamal to drive you back." She turns to Nora. "Is it okay if she comes? I promise to bring her back right away."

Nora smiles. "As long as it's fine with Ali's mother, I don't see why not."

* * *

><p>It doesn't take much for Ali's mother to agree.<p>

Within minutes Ali and Shana are skipping down the road with Nora, turning into a small path and into a small house just a few miles from Ali's family's house. The road from Ali's house winds downwards through round green hills whose firm margins cut across each other like the curves of a simple design. They turn a corner and from behind this, she sees hills and mountains, cold and intractable against a brilliant sky, surrounded by trees. Nora tells them she'll come pick Ali up later and Ali nods, curious, as she follows Shana inside the house.

The house is small and simple, but clean and well-kept. Shana tells Ali she lives with her grandmother and her parents here. Shana's grandmother is sitting on a chair in a corner by the window, sewing a quilt laid on her lap. Ali stares at the quilt, watches the shapes on it, finds them pretty.

Shana comes up to her grandmother, Ali following closely behind and Shana introduces Ali to her.

Shana's grandmother smiles by way of greeting, and says, "How do you like America so far?"

Ali shrugs, not knowing what to say to that.

"And how old are you?"

"Six," Ali replies automatically. "And a half."

Shana's grandmother keeps smiling. "Do you want me to tell you a story instead?"

Ali nods, in awe of Shana's grandmother.

Shana's grandmother nods, smooths down the quilt, and with one hand, shows Ali the figure of the sun sown on a background of blue sky. She tells her a story.

"The sun was very lonely because she was the only living thing in the whole wide world. She sat there brooding and feeling sorry for herself. Yes, she sat there feeling sorry for herself. A big tear rolled out of her eye and dropped on the ground. It rolled on and on down the hill, gathering dust until it hit a boulder and divided into many tears that became children as they rolled. They were Children of the Tear. They lived in peace in a dust bowl and did not have any need for food, clothing, or labor. Then one day the Sun farted." Here Shana's grandmother stops as Shana lets out a laugh. Ali just looks at Shana, puzzled. Shana's grandmother continues. "Instead of the bad wind coming out, a giraffe and Divided came out. A giraffe is a long-necked animal from the old continent, whereas Divided was a creature with the head and torso of a man and the body of a lion..."

Shana's grandmother pauses and Ali looks at her with her sharp blue eyes. "Then what happened?"

Shana's grandmother smiles. "What do you think happened?"

Ali shrugs. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Ali nods.

Shana's grandmother returns to her sewing and Ali watches her carefully before she says, "But...what about Jesus? Where was Jesus when all this was happening?"

"It was before there was nobody...before Jesus...not even trees and rivers..."

Ali considers this for a second, wondering about what Shana's grandmother has said. Then Shana's grandmother says, "Now, tell me a story."

Ali shakes her head. "I don't have any."

"Not even a story from Africa?"

"I don't have any stories."

"Well, when you come back next time, tell me a story, then."

Ali nods. "Okay."

Before she leaves, Shana's grandmother calls her back. Ali turns and waits by the doorway for Shana's grandmother to speak.

She is silent for a few moments before she speaks up. "Your grandmother does not have much time, child. She needs you and your mother now more than ever. As does your mother. Take care of them."

Ali nods, although she doesn't exactly understand what the old woman is saying. She decides though that she likes this old woman.

* * *

><p>Late that afternoon, when she gets home and passes by her grandmother's room, her grandmother calls her out.<p>

Curious, she goes into her grandmother's room. Inside, she sees her grandmother, lying on her bed, snowy white hair spread out on the pillow, frail, thin body covered in a thick quilt, the curtains drawn aside to let the late afternoon sun in.

"Come closer, child," her grandmother whispers.

When she does so, her grandmother smiles and says, "Read to me, child."

Her grandmother motions to the thick black book on the bedside table. Ali reaches for it and opens it to the first page. It is the Bible.

"Next time you can read to me whatever you like," her grandmother tells her before she settles back on her pillow and listens to Ali reading until she falls asleep.

* * *

><p>Shana becomes her friend that summer. Shana reminds Ali a bit of Tamsin, her best friend back home and it made Ali miss Johannesburg even more. She takes her to the grounds behind the house, by the stream, the one she explores when she's alone, and they sit under a shade and talk.<p>

Shana is a bit like Tamsin, but with an American accent and a crazy obsession with Harry Potter and Star Wars. She says her older brother, Jamal, is way into Star Wars and they can't wait for "Revenge of the Sith" to show.

"Me and my brother are going to camp outside the cinema when the movie premiers," Shana tells her excitedly. "You could come if you like..." Then her face falls as she realizes something. "Or, if, you know, your mom lets you."

Ali only smiles.

She doesn't tell her about what her mother thinks about Star Wars. She knows her daddy would let her watch it though.

* * *

><p>She doesn't know about Spencer though.<p>

Once, coming home from having played with Shana, she sees Spencer, sitting and looking bored, watching Ali as she comes up from the driveway. She comes up the steps, looks at Spencer, before she sits down a few inches beside her. They sit in silence for a while, not saying anything to each other.

Finally, Spencer speaks up.

"My dad's handling your parents' divorce."

It takes Ali a few seconds to realize what Spencer is saying. "What? My parents aren't getting a divorce."

Spencer nods, a look of condescension on her face. "Sure they are. Didn't you notice? The fights? The shouting? Whatever."

Ali shakes her head. "No."

Spencer looks at her as if she is an idiot. "If they're not, then why is my dad here?" When Ali doesn't say anything, she shrugs. "That's fine. The first step to recovery is denial. It happens."

"My parents aren't divorcing," Ali tells her.

Spencer assures her. "It's okay. That was the first thing I thought, too. But therapy helps. I've been in therapy since I was three. My parents divorced when I was three. I live with my mom. My dad gets me and my sister, Melissa, on weekends. Except Melissa is in high school now and she thinks she's too old to hang out with dad and me. She has a boyfriend now and stuff. Ian." Spencer makes a disgusted face. "They're kind of gross. They kiss all the time and ugh. She's supposed to be babysitting me anyway, but she hates babysitting. Jason doesn't mind it though."

"Who's Jason?"

"My brother. He's older than Melissa. But he's in college now and he can't come home as often as he likes. But I know he'd babysit me if he could. I miss Jason." She stops and looks at Ali. "You don't have a brother or a sister, do you?"

Ali shakes her head.

"Must be lonely being all alone like that. I mean, sometimes I can't stand Melissa 'cause all she ever does is talk on the phone or do her nails or do her hair and talk about boys all the time, but it's okay." She stops then, a thought coming into her head and she asks Ali, "So, if your mom and dad are divorcing, who do want to go with? Your mom or your dad?"

Ali looks at her then, horrified and irritated. "Are you always this..._annoying?_"

Spencer seems unperturbed though. "My dad says I'm incorrigible." She says this with pride in her voice.

"What does that mean?"

Spencer looks at her, wide-eyed. "You don't know what it means?"

Ali doesn't say anything.

Spencer has a self-satisfied look on her face. "I go to this really good school and we learn different languages and we learn classical music and we learn new words all the time. Big words. I'm going to be a lawyer some day."

Ali just looks at her.

"And incorrigible means..." But before she can say anything, Spencer's father comes out. Spencer's father smiles at Ali briefly, looks at Spencer and says, "Let's go. I have to pick up your sister at practice."

Spencer nods. "See you later, Alison!"

Ali nods. She sees Mr. Hastings with Spencer and tries not to miss her own father.

As they go to their car, she can hear Mr. Hastings say, "Now, let's talk about that grade you got in music..."

* * *

><p>Sometimes, in church, or in Sunday school or at home, before she sleeps, she puts her hands together and prays. She thinks maybe if she closes her eyes and prays hard enough, maybe what Spencer said about her mom and dad getting a divorce won't happen. Maybe if she prays hard enough she'll wake up and find out Spencer was just lying and this isn't true at all. Maybe this might even be a dream. Maybe if she prays hard enough her dad will come and he and her mom will be okay and they won't divorce anymore and everything will be right as rain. Then they can go back to Africa and she can see her friends and her grandparents and go on safaris and see lions and giraffes and maybe go on vacation in Pretoria or Capetown or Botswana or Kenya or maybe even London or Paris. Once, she sees a shooting star, she makes a wish for her parents to get back together, too, but nothing's happening.<p>

She thinks it's her fault that her parents are divorcing.

She thinks it's because when her mother would drink while waiting for her dad, and she'd make Ali lie about it or she and her dad would go somewhere special, like a trip to the museum or to a park, and he'd let her have all the sugar she wants and tells her she shouldn't tell her mom about it. It's her fault. Maybe she's too much trouble. Maybe it's because her daddy is working so hard for them, because she wants a horse and a dog and a cat and big birthday parties with all her friends there and everything else.

She wants to ask her mom if it's true that they are divorcing, but she's afraid. She's afraid that it may be true. She doesn't know if she can handle the truth. She tries to push it down, tries to forget about it, to ignore it, plays with Shana when Shana comes over, or with Emily at Sunday School or goes around the house or sits under a shade by the stream reading. She thinks maybe if she ignores it will go away.

* * *

><p>A couple of months later, towards the end of summer, her grandmother's illness worsens.<p>

Her mother breaks the news to her then.

They cannot go back to Africa yet. Her mother has to take care of her grandmother.

They will have to stay longer in America, in Rosewood.

"For how long?" Ali asks, the fear rising up within her like bile.

Her mother shakes her head. "I don't know. Until your grandmother gets better I guess. Grandma is old now. She needs me to take care of her. I need to take care of her. In the meantime, you might have to study here. I'm sorry, Ali."

"But what about my friends?" Ali demands. "What about grandpa and grandma and daddy?"

Her mother only shrugs. "I don't know Ali. But they'll just have to deal without you. It's not like it's the end of the world. Your father's busy anyway. He can't take time off from work. But your father might come for a visit soon, so there's that."

Ali stands there, in front of her mother, not believing her ears. As her mother continues to speak, she feels the tears roll down her cheeks. In a matter of minutes, she is crying and screaming and stamping her feet in frustration.

Her mother watches her, unmoving, and says, "Ali, don't fight me on this. We're staying here and that's final."

Before Ali can stop herself, she looks her mother in the eye and screams, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The day Ali's mother breaks the news to her that they aren't going back home to Africa just yet because she has to take care of Ali's grandmother devastates Ali. Ali throws a tantrum that night.

She holds her breath until her face turns blue and her mother's face has a mutinous look as she tells Ali, "I said, _breathe_, Ali, dammit!"

Ali just looks at her then and her mother looks back, makes a disgusted, irritated noise, turns on her heels, stomps out of Ali's room and slams it behind her.

Ali sulks and refuses to come out and eat.

She falls on her bed and cries herself to sleep.

Her mother ignores her.

Finally, in the middle of the night, her mother re-opens her door, and sees Ali asleep on her bed. It is dark inside the room.

Her mother slowly walks toward the bed, sits beside her, watches her sleep, turns on the bedside lamp and slowly, tentatively, puts a hand on Ali's head, rubbing her head gently. Ali stirs, her eyes fluttering and she moves, sees her mother looking at her. There is a look in her eyes that makes Ali feel bad. A look of sadness, regret.

Ali moves towards her mother, puts her small arms around her mother, and whispers, "I'm sorry, mommy."

It surprises her mother so much she doesn't know what to say for a good few moments, before she whispers back, "I'm sorry, too, Ali. I can't just leave your grandmother. You know that."

Ali sniffs. "I know."

"I'm really sorry," her mother repeats, drawing her closer to her.

"When can we go home?" Ali asks.

Jessica sighs. "As soon as we can honey. As soon as we can."

"Okay."

"And then we can go to Nando's, and maybe go to Capetown after and..."

"And maybe see giraffes?" Ali asks, hopefully. "And zebras? And elephants? And hippos? And spring bok? And impalas? And ride ostriches?"

Jessica laughs softly. "Yes, maybe even ride ostriches. Although I think you're too young to ride ostriches, Ali."

"Okay," Ali replies. "Can I see daddy?"

"Daddy's coming to visit, soon, honey," Jessica says.

"Why can't he visit now?"

"He has work, Ali, you know that. But he promises to come as soon as he can. Maybe even get a transfer so he can stay here in the meantime."

Ali nods, face buried in Jessica's chest, Jessica holding her tightly. "You want to call Tamsin?" her mother asks her.

Ali nods again.

"Maybe tomorrow, yes?" she says. "It's late now and I'm sure you're hungry. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want some fried chicken and mashed potatoes? Nora cooked some for you. I could heat it up for you."

"Okay," Ali says, pulling away from Jessica and wiping the tears from her eyes.

Jessica looks at her and leans over to wipe the tears with her fingers. "Oh, honey. Don't be sad. You'll like it here, I promise. And we'll be home sooner than you can think. I just need you to be brave, okay? Brave and strong and good, okay?"

Ali nods. "Okay."

"Good," Jessica says, gathering Ali up into a hug.

Ali squirms and Jessica releases her. They sit there in silence, Jessica not knowing what else to say, but then Ali speaks up.

"Mommy?"

"Yes?"

Ali hesitates before she says, "Are you and daddy getting a divorce?"

Jessica is surprised at the question. "Who told you that?"

Ali shrugs. "Nobody."

Jessica looks at her with hard eyes. Ali swallows. "Spencer."

Jessica sighs. "Honey. No. Daddy's just busy and mommy just needs to take care of grandma, okay?"

Ali smiles, relieved. "Okay."

Jessica smiles back. "Alright. Let's get you that dinner before you go back to sleep."

Jessica stands up and Ali follows her out the door and to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Ali wants to be brave, really, really brave, but the first few days and weeks after she realizes she isn't going back home just yet, are the hardest.<p>

Before school starts, her grandmother falls ill and it falls to her mother to take care of her. It takes up most of her time.

Ali wants to be good, really, really good, but sometimes she loses her temper, and so sometimes she is asked to sit in a corner, staring at the wall for hours on end, until it is dinner time or at least until her mother thinks she's been punished enough that she can rejoin the rest of the household. Her grandmother would argue with her mother about sending Ali to her room or to a corner, but her mother doesn't budge.

* * *

><p>The rest of the summer turns unpleasant for Ali, knowing as she does that she can not go back to Johannesburg just yet. Her father calls her, whenever he can, but already she feels the distance, the sense of loss, the sense of him slipping away. Sometimes she finds herself looking at television news, hoping to catch some news about South Africa, or any part of Africa, really, but all she can see are news about Iraq and Afghanistan and Osama bin Laden and 911 and John Kerry and George Bush Jr. and housing prices and she isn't really interested, although whenever the news is on, her mother would watch so intently she thinks her mother would break the television by sheer force of will, like a Jedi or a Sith probably. Sometimes she closes her eyes, tries to imagine the smell of Johannesburg, the _braais_ on weekends, the feel of the ground beneath her toes, the noise of a million different cars and buses and animals by the side of the road, people screaming good morning in Afrikaans, "_More_, _more_!" Johannesburg seems full of life, compared to Rosewood.

Ali is a city girl through and through, and she feels her life slowing down to a crawl in Rosewood.

* * *

><p>September comes and with it autumn and falling leaves and she has to go to Rosewood Elementary.<p>

Her first day does not go as planned.

First of all, Ali doesn't have the right shirt and pants. She wants her favorite pink shirt, but it's not clean and it's in the laundry and all her other shirts are not good and she ends up with a purple shirt she hates ("It's _lavender_, not purple!" her mother says impatiently as she tugs at the shirt over Ali's head) and pants. Her shoes are the wrong color, the wrong make and the wrong style and she doesn't like her bag and she hates school.

Her mother had sighed then. "Ali, please can you just...please give me a break?"

Ali makes a face and sulks all the way to the school.

The only good thing about school is that she is classmates with Shana, and so she sits beside the other girl as the teacher, a middle-aged lady that smells of sun and earth named Mrs. Sawyer, says, "We've got a new student today, and she's from South Africa..." And then she turns to Shana and smiles.

Shana gives Mrs. Sawyer a weird look. "I'm from Georgia."

Mrs. Sawyer says, "Oh. Sorry. Um, Alison? Alison DiLaurentiis?"

Ali looks up then, stares at the teacher and slowly raises her hand. Mrs. Sawyer smiles at her then and makes Ali do something that will make Ali hate her for the rest of grade school. She makes Ali introduce herself before the class, which makes the other kids raise a lot of questions that make her hate Rosewood even more. The kids ask her a lot of stupid questions about Africa and she makes a face, folds her arms in front of her and refuses to answer.

By the end of the questions, Ali's face has turned bright red from a mixture of irritation, anger and embarrassment, more so because her teacher barely says anything, but Shana is right there and gives her an encouraging smile.

* * *

><p>The first few months in Rosewood are the hardest. Her father comes for a visit and promises her he would visit more. Her grandmother's illness doesn't show any signs of improvement. But she has Shana as a friend and they spend days just hanging out at Shana's house, talking to Shana's grandmother, or she spends days in the attic, reading her mother's old books.<p>

As the months pass, Ali slowly adjusts to life in Rosewood. She still misses her father, and she misses Africa, but she thinks maybe one day she'll be able to go back to her home and then everything will be alright. Some of the other kids still tease her sometimes, but having Shana around makes them think twice before teasing Ali, especially since once, when one of the other boys, Ben, had pulled at Ali's pigtails, Shana had kicked him between his legs. Ali had punched him on the face. The boy, too embarrassed to go to the principal, goes around with a black eye, and Ali earns the respect of the other kids. They know better than to cross her and Shana.

School is fine. Ali likes school. School makes sense for Ali. Science makes sense. Math makes sense. English makes sense. Music makes sense. She gets good grades but she still feels unhappy. The days seem to stretch forever, and she feels like a trapped animal in a place where she doesn't belong.

The one thing she doesn't like about school is presentations or "show-and-tell". There was a take-your-pet-to-school-day for "show-and-tell" and the other kids brought their pets. One boy, Ben, brought his hamster, another, John, his white rat, a girl brought her rabbit. Shana brought her pet turtle and she set it on the floor and spent ages trying to make it move. One boy, Lucas, brought his tarantula and it got out of its glass box and they spent hours trying to look for it, with the teacher screaming, "Children! Don't panic!" as the other kids climbed over tables and chairs and shelves as Lucas tried to look for it. Ali doesn't have any pet so she talks about the horse she had back in Africa, a beautiful little horse that she would ride for hours alongside her father.

During presentation day on "United Nations Day", everyone was asked to talk about their hometown, or in Ali's case, her home country, and as she talked about Africa and its people and its animals and its food and its drinks, she finds herself almost crying.

A new girl comes, Jenna Marshall. She comes from Australia, but she was born in South Africa, too, like Ali, and everyone forgets to tease Ali. For a time, the other kids tease Jenna instead, because she talks funny and she couldn't see very well. Shana strikes up a friendship with Jenna and even though Ali would have wanted Shana all to herself, she doesn't say anything and they all hang out during recess and share their lunch together.

* * *

><p>Ali sees Peter and Spencer Hastings a lot her first year in Rosewood. Peter spends a lot of this time talking in the office behind the living room, or in the living room itself, while Ali and Spencer stay in the kitchen with Nora. Sometimes Shana comes for a playdate, and she and Spencer talk about Star Wars or Harry Potter. Her mother gets a job and from Nora she finds out that her mother is heir to a company, a chocolate factory, a steel mill and a real estate agency, and that had she not married and gone off to Africa, she would have been running the company sooner. Her mother comes from one of the old families in town, and that her maiden name, De Burgh, is well-know in the town, and in the state. Mr. Hastings is helping her mother with the running of the company, Nora explains.<p>

Ali meets Melissa and Jason Hastings one night when Mr. Hastings comes for dinner with Spencer.

Melissa is a sulky, sullen sixteen year old who dislikes Ali as much as she dislikes Melissa. Spencer, who hasn't decided yet whether she likes Ali, tells her Melissa had thrown a fit over having dinner with Ali and her mother, when she could be out with Ian. Their mother, Veronica, had been unamused as well, and Spencer had overhead an argument between them once, when her mother had told her father, "Are you even going to tell him the truth?" And Spencer had wondered who her mother was talking about.

Spencer says Melissa dislikes Ali but then, Spencer explains, Melissa hates all kids so that's fine.

Jason though is a different person altogether. Jason is an incoming junior at one of the universities (Penn, she remembers) and is nice and tall and blond and blue-eyed like her. He studies marine biology and will be spending the rest of his summer in Antarctica studying penguins. Jason is full of interesting information about animals, particularly penguins, polar bears, dolphins, seals, walruses and other things that live under the sea. The first time they meet, over dinner at a Rosewood restaurant, he presents Ali with a dolphin stuffed toy and despite herself, Ali is pleased.

During dinner, with Jason, Spencer and Ali all seated together, Melissa takes one look at all three of them and jokes, "Wow, you guys all look like you're practically related or something."

Ali doesn't understand what Melissa is saying, but then she realizes that she, Jason and Spencer all have the same chin and jawline. But she thinks maybe this is just coincidence and promptly ignores Melissa for the rest of the dinner. Which is just as well, since both Spencer and Melisssa ignore her as well, looking bored and uninterested in the dinner. In the middle of dinner Ali realizes why they are bored. She and her mother mean nothing to them. And why should they?

* * *

><p>Autumn leaves as quickly as it arrived, and winter and the holidays come and Rosewood is covered in snow, Ali's first, and she almost forgets about Africa, and she and her father and her best friend, Tamsin, talk on the phone, or chat online, and her father promises they will see each other soon, at the end of the school year. But when the school year ends, her grandmother's illness takes a turn for the worse, and she is rushed to the hospital. She stays in the hospital for a few days. The doctor says her lungs have filled up with phlegm and she's too old for surgery. So they send her home. New equipment are wheeled in, wires attached to her body, to monitor her vital signs. Her mother is busier than ever, taking care of her and attending to the many demands of running the family business. Ali doesn't mind though. She looks forward to the summer, because her daddy promised her she would be able to go back to Africa.<p>

But she is never able to go back to Africa that second summer.

* * *

><p>Her daddy comes to Rosewood that summer though. He stays in a hotel, which puzzles Ali. He could have just stayed at home. It is large and spacious and has a lot of rooms. Her daddy doesn't say but she finds out soon enough over dinner.<p>

The first time she sees her father outside the Rosewood restaurant, looking tall and handsome in a dark blue suit and polished shoes, blond hair brushed back, smile all ready for Ali, Ali runs up to him and he scoops her up in his arms, tossing her in the air and grinning.

"You've gotten so big!" he says, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tight. "I've missed you so much, princess."

"I've missed you so much, too," Ali says, voice muffled as she buries her face on his chest, inhaling the strong smell of aftershave and cologne. "When can I come home? I miss everyone."

He laughs. "My goodness, a year in America and you already sound American."

"I do _not_."

"Do, too," he teases, holding her tight.

"Do not."

"Do, too."

She squirms and makes an irritated noise. He laughs some more. "It's okay. You're still my little princess, honey."

He pulls back, reaches into a bag she hadn't noticed before resting by his feet, and pulls out something. "First things first, princess. Here's your Paddington."

Ali squeals in delight and grabs the toy from her father. "Oh, daddy, you remembered! You brought Paddy!"

"How could I forget?" he asks, moving his head to wave at Ali's mother, who waves back and drives off.

Ali looks towards where he is looking and she asks, puzzled, "Mommy isn't joining us for dinner?"

He smiles briefly. "No, honey."

"Why not?"

He looks at her, sadness in his eyes, before he says, "Ali, honey, we need to talk."

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you're getting a divorce?" Ali demands over dinner.<p>

The wait staff had already gotten their orders and her father had ordered wine while she drinks apple juice.

Her father shrugs. "It's just what it means, honey. Your mommy and I have decided we're getting a divorce."

Ali just stares at her father, not believing her ears. They were okay. They are okay. When she and her mother left Africa, they were doing fine. What happened? Did her mother choosing to stay longer in Rosewood to take care of her ailing mother have anything to do with it? Did it have anything to do with Ali? This isn't happening, she thinks. This isn't _happening_. This is a dream, and she'll wake up and everything will be like it was.

"But how come?" she asks, wondering.

"It's what your mother and I have decided, Ali."

"But what if I don't want you to get a divorce?"

Her father looks at her sadly. "I'm sorry, honey, but this is between your mother and me."

"But...but...you were okay," she stammers. "Before we left Africa, you guys were happy, weren't you?"

Her father doesn't know what to say at first. "Honey, we've been having...problems, even before you left Africa. We thought spending some time apart would help,but it hasn't. We both decided it's for the best."

"Is there somebody else?" Ali demands. "Are you in love with somebody else? Is mommy in love with somebody else?"

Her father shakes his head. "No, no. It's not like that, honey. Just...some people love each other for a long time, but sometimes that isn't enough and they wake up one day and decide they no longer want to live together. Or be together. But we both still care for each other, and we both love you very much and nothing's going to change that."

"But where will I go, daddy?" Ali says, the tears starting to form in her eyes, her lower lip starting to tremble. She feels like the world is ending and she doesn't know how to deal with it.

"You can live with your mom."

"But I want to stay with you, daddy."

Her father looks at her with sad eyes. "I know, honey. But we decided this is for the best, too. I'm working a lot, and I'm away a lot, and I don't want you all alone in the house. This way, you can have a normal life and your mommy can take care of you."

"But I don't want to live here!" she protests. She doesn't notice that she has raised her voice and a few people look towards their table, curious.

"Honey, you're making a scene," her daddy says, calmly. "I know this is hard for you. But it's hard for all of us, too. You think this is easy for me? Because it isn't."

"No, you don't know," Ali says, anger boiling to the surface now. "You don't know how I feel, daddy. Because you just left me. You left me and you left mommy and you just gave up and you never fought for me and it's terrible and I hate you."

Her words are a slap to her father. Her father sits there, surprised. When he recovers, he says, "You don't mean that."

Ali pouts, folds her arms together in front of her and doesn't say anything.

Her father speaks up then. "I'm working on moving to the U.S., too, so I can be near you and I can spend time with you, but it's going to take a while. But I promise you I will make sure I see you as much as I can. I will spend as much time as I can with you."

"Mommy promised we'd come home for the summer last year, but we never did," Ali points out. "She promised we could come home when grandma gets better. But grandma isn't better, she's getting worse and we're never going back to Africa, are we? And you're probably never coming to live here either."

Her father is silent.

Mercifully, the wait staff comes to their table to give them their orders. Ali grabs her fork and bread knife and is thankful she has something to do with her hands. She feels the tears threaten to spill from her eyes. She swallows, feels a lump forming in her throat.

Her father finally speaks up.

"Some day, you'll understand why your mother and I had to do this."

Ali just looks at him, not knowing what to say, before she looks down at her food again. Everything looks blurry.

"Sometimes...something's so broken even when you try to fix it, it just gets worse," he continues. "I hope you know your mother and I will always love you and nothing will ever, ever change that."

Ali doesn't say anything. She doesn't know what to say. She knows maybe she'll never understand. That whatever happened between her parents will always be beyond her grasp. That it will always be private. Intimate. Accepted. Final. Closed to her. She feels an emptiness in the pit of her stomach, which was fear, and sadness, too. By the time she has cut her chicken into bite-sized portions, tears are falling down on the plate.

Later that night when her mother asks her how the dinner went, Ali looks up at her mother's face, at the lines on her face, at the wistful sadness in her eyes that Ali never noticed before, at the dark circles on her face, at the exhaustion beneath the smile and Ali wonders if her parents had ever been happy. Had they lied to her before? Pretending to be happy for her sake? Her mother looks unhappy now. Her father looks unhappy as well. Ali feels unhappy. She feels as if it is her fault her parents are unhappy. She feels that same indescribable sadness in herself. She is seven and she realizes what sadness means. She looks up at her mother's face and she wants to say that the dinner was awful, that the bread was too dry and burnt, that the lettuce in her salad tastes funny, that the chicken tastes weird, that the salt from her tears made the food taste salty, that she couldn't swallow or even eat her food, that daddy looked sad, and she felt like crying, but she realizes she shouldn't make her mommy feel even more sad. Her mother told her she should be good and brave. Her daddy told her the same thing over dinner. Her daddy asked her to take care of her mommy now. She promised she would. Ali realizes the only way she could help her mommy and daddy is to lie.

So Ali looks at her mother and lies. She looks at her, smiles bravely and says, "It was great mommy. It was awesome!"

She doesn't know if her mommy actually believes her, until her mommy smiles, puts a hand on her face, rubs her cheek gently, gathers her in her arms and hugs her. "You're such a brave, little girl, you know that?" she murmurs into Ali's hair, her voice sounding broken.

Ali nods.

Later that night, Ali lies awake staring up at the ceiling, wondering what's going to happen to them now.

She wonders what's going to happen now. Will they stay here forever? Will she ever be able to go back to Africa? Will she ever see Tamsin and her grandparents? Will she and her mommy need to move somewhere else? Will she be able to see her daddy again?

She lies awake thinking about these things until the dark sky turns light and the moon sets and the sun rises. She has no answer. Her sadness just grows and grows.

Ali feels like she can't breathe.

Like life has ended.

Like the sun will never shine again.

Like summer will never ever come again.

Divorce.

It's the end of the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Summer is a blur for her.

If her mommy asks her how her day was, she would say she's okay, although in truth she isn't.

Shana, her closest friend, wonders what's wrong with her, but whenever she asks Ali, Ali just shakes her head, unable to tell Shana anything.

Spencer though, Spencer is a different thing altogether.

Since Ali's talk with her daddy, she's beginning to hate Spencer.

She sees her in her house, with her daddy, Mr. Hastings, and Ali just hates Spencer more and more.

Spencer tries to initiate conversations with her, or tries to play with her, but Ali just ignores her and chooses to go with Shana instead.

Ali finds comfort in Shana's grandmother's stories, in their home, in the smell of baked cookies and bread, the small but lived-in feel of their house, the sense of family she feels there – Shana's parents, her brother Jamal, who just graduated from high school and is going off to college soon, how very different it is from her house. The best part is they don't seem to mind that she's any different – she's just Ali, Shana's friend.

Ali finds equal comfort in the attic, too, going through books there. She reads old books owned by her mother. Old, moldy books about Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Famous Five and Bobbsey Twins. Her mother buys her Harry Potter books and she reads them as well, when she cannot sleep at night.

Once, in the summer, when she and Shana are by the stream at the back of the house, just sitting on the flat rocks, enjoying the peace and quiet under the shade, Shana says, "Grandma says you're sad."

Ali doesn't say anything at first, before she says, "Why does she say that?"

Shana shrugs and says, "Don't know. She just said."

Ali doesn't really want Shana or her grandmother to worry. Besides, she feels like it's none of their business anyway. So she lies. "I'm fine. We're fine. We're good."

"I just thought..."

"We're okay," Ali insists. There is an irritation in her voice that surprises Shana.

Shana just looks at her then and then drops the subject.

* * *

><p>Her grandmother's condition worsens that summer.<p>

Her grandmother is rushed to the hospital again.

A few days later, her grandmother feels better, so she is sent home. She gives Ali a snow globe one time Ali passes by her room. Her grandmother's voice is hoarse and she is weak, but Ali understands that this is a gift, that she is supposed to keep it to remember her grandmother by.

Then her grandmother slips into a coma.

Ali spends more time in the attic. It's the one place that gives her peace and quiet, away from everyone else. The other reason is because she has this nagging feeling that things will change even more. Especially for her. In school, her teachers had been talking about how this is an important part of her life, of their lives, hers and her classmates', that their bodies are about to change, that they'll all grow taller, the boys' voices will crack and grow deeper, the girls will start to have their period, and they'll all start growing hair in places that they'd never known existed – all of which Ali finds gross.

But then one day, she'd come home to realize that there _is_ hair growing on her armpits, and that her chest seems to have grown overnight. It's not like a couple of her girl classmates, who are taller and have bigger chests and boast that they just got their period, but still, she finds it uncomfortable and doesn't want anything growing on her armpits, or around her bikini line, or having breasts or even having a period. She wants to talk to her mother about it, but again, her mother is busy with her grandmother so she locks herself up in the attic, writing in her diary.

A few weeks later, her mother, tear-filled eyes standing by Ali's grandmother's bed, decides to pull the plug on the old woman's life support system. She watches as the doctor does so, and sobs silently long after the doctor has left.

Ali watches from outside the door to her grandmother's room, looking at her mother.

Ali's mother buries her grandmother days later.

* * *

><p>Ali watches everyone stand around the casket as it is slowly lowered into the ground. Everyone is wearing black. Her mother is wearing a black dress, gloves, a hat, and a veil to cover her face. She is wearing a dress that is one size too small for her, with ruffles and lace and a material that makes her skin itch. It is hot and windy and she has the urge to scratch at what she is wearing. She and her mother had had a fight earlier over the choice of clothes for Ali and it ended with a heated exchange between them, much shouting and a threat to ground Ali for the rest of the summer and Ali sulking and fidgeting for the rest of the ride to the funeral. She is angry and annoyed. Shana takes one look at her face and only nods, giving her a grim smile. Shana already knows better than to say anything.<p>

There are flowers and a large, framed portrait of her grandmother, just in front of the casket. Chairs are arranged around the casket, all the mourners in black and quietly listening to the minister. Everyone is somber and serious, while her mother is quietly crying beside her. Everyone seems to have come to attend the funeral – Peter Hastings, Jason, Melissa, Spencer, even Peter's ex-wife, Veronica. They are comforting each other, holding on to each other, holding hands, while she and her mother sit apart from the rest, looking all alone in a sea of people. People are comforting each other, but she wonders who will comfort her mother. She thought for a time it would be her father, but her father is not here right now and so it is only her mother, all alone, comforting herself, standing strong. She decides she's going to be strong too, strong for her mother and for herself. She doesn't know the others, or maybe she just doesn't recognize them. The minister delivers a eulogy that describes her grandmother as a pillar of the community, somebody warm and kind and loving and who helped build Rosewood with her husband. The minister probably has said other things as well, but she doesn't catch all of it. In fact, she barely understands all of it. There are lines about coming from dust and "unto dust we shall return" and she remembers she used to read the Bible to her grandmother and her grandmother would patiently help her pronounce words when she struggled with them. The sun shines above them and she sees the light on her skin, imagines that she can see the bones beneath her flesh. Her classmate Lucas had a toy pair of X-ray specs and claimed he could see beneath her skin with it. She'd glared at him, grabbed the X-ray specs, wore it and realized he was lying.

She sees Lucas now in a black suit, curly hair being ruffled by the wind, Ben sitting beside him. She sees Jenna Marshall and her mother as well, sitting beside Shana and her grandmother. There is another girl she remembers from school, in glasses and pigtails, Mona Vanderwaal, and Melissa's friend, Kate Randall, with a short, chubby, blond girl that she thinks maybe she's seen at school, too. Anna? Annie? Hannah? She doesn't remember the name. She remembers Hannah always eating though, always holding a Snickers bar or Cheetos or pop tarts or Twinkies in her hand. She sees Emily the Sunday School girl, with her parents. She thinks she may have seen Emily at school as well, but isn't sure.

She wonders if her grandmother can still feel the sun in her casket. She imagines it is cold inside the casket. She imagines herself inside the casket and shudders. She imagines being buried beneath the earth and shudders some more. She wonders about ghosts. If dead people can really come back as ghosts. And then she wonders about death. Her mother tells her everybody dies, that it was time for her grandmother to die, that they just needed to accept it and move on, but her mother looked like she couldn't accept this fact. She wonders what happens after death. Where do people go, after they die? Is there really a heaven, a hell and a purgatory? Would she really go to heaven if she's really, really good? Would she go to hell if she's really, really bad? She thinks it's hard to be good. But she hopes she can still go to heaven. She wonders about living forever, whether people can live forever and she wishes she could find some kind of cure so people like herself and her mother, could live forever. She thinks it might be nice to live forever. To be an immortal. She stares at the casket and wonders if her grandma is dust now. She looks at the ground and stares at it, and wonders how someone with skin and bones and hair and nails and clothes could turn to the ground beneath her feet. It seems strange somehow, to think of someone as dust now. She wonders if some day, when her daddy and mommy die, they will turn to dust too. She realizes maybe someday she will be dust herself. Everyone reduced to dust. Dust. That is all we are, in the end.

She looks up at the sky, and feels a bit dizzy, looking up at the nothingness of the clear, cloudless blue sky. We are dust, she thinks. Placed against the vastness of a big blue sky, we are only dust. Tiny and completely unimportant. Nothing.

She doesn't say anything, or even cry, during the ceremony, until the silence is broken and people are getting up and speaking and her mother gently nudges her and softly tells her it's time to go home.

Ali suddenly feels very tired.

As she follows everyone down the road. She sees Peter Hastings and his children, Jason carrying Spencer and Melissa, and their mother, Veronica following close behind. She tries not to stumble and fidget as she does so, her mother holding her hand firmly, they are stopped by a woman and her daughter. She looks up and she sees that it is the girl from Sunday School, and her mother and father.

"Mrs. DiLaurentiis...I'm..._we're_ so sorry for your loss..." the woman says. "I'm Pam Fields...this is my husband, Wayne. He's home from Afghanistan. And this is my daughter Emily...you don't know us but we knew your mother..."

Her mother nods, thanks Mrs. Pam Fields in a low voice.

"If there is anything, anything at all, that you need, please, don't hesitate to call me," Mrs. Fields continues.

Her mother nods again. They talk some more before they part and her mother is leading her down the grounds, towards the direction of their Rolls Royce.

As she stands by the side of the road, watching her mother unlock the car and get in, opening the passenger side.

Suddenly, someone taps her on the shoulder and she turns around and it is Emily Fields, clutching something in her hand, thrusting it towards her.

"I'm sorry you lost your grandmother," Emily says carefully.

She opens her hand. Ali looks and it is a bracelet. There is nothing special with it, just a simple bracelet like the kind you could buy at the mall.

As Ali carefully takes the bracelet from Emily's hand, Emily says, "I have a grandmother...and she's still alive, and at home...and I thought maybe you could use something..."

Ali stares at the bracelet. Emily is speaking again, but she doesn't hear her. She doesn't know why this girl would give her a bracelet, when Ali's grandmother is dead and her grandmother is alive and her mother is sad and her parents are divorcing and Emily just stands there, looking clueless and pretty and Ali just hates her, hates her with all her heart. And she stands there and she realizes she doesn't want Emily's pity or her bracelet or her words, and she shoves the bracelet back at the girl and says, "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need that."

And her mother honks the car and calls her name out and she turns and walks toward the car, not bothering to say goodbye to Emily.

She feels a guilty sick pleasure at the look of confusion and hurt on Emily's face, standing there holding the bracelet in her hand.

Ali falls asleep then.

* * *

><p>Ali wakes up in her room like it's an ordinary day. She'd been dreaming of her grandmother in her casket, the sun shining in the sky, her grandmother rising from beneath the ground as a spirit, turning to dust and she wakes up sweating and breathing heavily and afraid. At first she doesn't know where she is, but then as she takes heavy breaths, she realizes she is home and it is alright. She looks around. Everything looks the same. But she knows it's not really the same at all. Outside her room she can hear the sound of voices, of tinkling silverware, of footsteps. She gets up, goes outside to the hallway, takes a peek downstairs and sees the people who attended the funeral milling around their house, talking to her mother, consoling her.<p>

She goes back to her bed and takes a nap.

Minutes later, she gets up and sneaks out.

She realizes she can't stay here. Not because of all the people, but she feels restless and bored and outside Spencer, whom she doesn't like anyway, and her family, she doesn't know most of the people downstairs.

She manages to slip out the back of the house without anyone noticing, and proceeds to go down the driveway, down the road, not knowing where she is going until she notices that she in the middle of the road, going nowhere.

She decides to run away.

She doesn't know where.

She just wants to walk and walk and walk until she's put miles and miles and miles between her and her grandmother's death, and the house, and the changes in her body, and everything else. Maybe if she walks far enough, she could go all the way back to Africa. She's read somewhere about a man who'd literally walked around the world, and wore out hundreds of shoes in the process. Maybe she could do that. Maybe if she could leave it all behind it could get better.

Why are things changing? Why can't things stay the same?

She's so lost in her own thoughts she doesn't realize that Shana's been calling her name. It is only after a few tries does Shana even get her attention. When Ali realizes Shana's been calling her, she stops, turns around and waits as Shana catches up with her.

"What you doing? Where you going?" Shana asks.

Ali just shakes her head.

"You were going somewhere," Shana says. "Where were you going?"

Ali just shakes her head.

"Well, do you want to come over to my house first?" Shana asks. "Grandma's home and she says to tell you, you can come by anytime if you want."

Ali thinks about it. She turns and sees that the sun is setting. It is going to be dark soon. She'd need money, food, clothes. She'd need to sleep. If she continues walking now, maybe she'll get hungry.

So she nods and follows Shana back to their house.

They arrive to see Shana's grandmother making a quilt. She doesn't say anything when Shana and Ali appear on their doorstep. Shana's grandmother motions for her to join them by the window, gives her a needle, thread and some pieces of cloth and invites her to sew with them.

Nobody says anything. Everybody just sits down and starts sewing. Shana's grandmother doesn't say anything, even though Ali's stitches are uneven and the cloth she is sewing is all askew. Shana and her grandmother just smile and give Ali hot milk.

Ali hears a phone ring and she barely hears Shana say, "Yes, Mrs. DiLaurentiis, she's here. Yeah, my brother and I will make sure she gets home safely. Don't worry. Okay. You're welcome Mrs. DiLaurentiis."

They sew until the sun goes down. Just before Jamal comes home, Shana's grandmother smiles at Ali, offers her the quilt and says, "Everything exists together in a delicate balance. We must respect that. When we die, our bodies become the dust and the wind and the grass, and the antelope eat the grass. And so we are all connected. Your grandmother may not be with you now, but she's with you in spirit. And she's everywhere. In your memories of her. In the air. In everything. So she hasn't really left you. She's just all around you."

Ali doesn't understand completely what Shana's grandmother is saying, but there is something comforting about what she says, like a balm to the pain in her heart, and she nods and Shana's grandmother embraces her.

Before she leaves, Shana's grandmother says, "You take care child. Come by anytime."

* * *

><p>When she gets home, she gets grounded, her mother telling her between gritted teeth, "Don't ever, <em>ever<em> leave the house without telling me, ever again, Ali."

Ali doesn't mind it though. She thinks maybe if she hadn't gone to Shana's house, she would have gone crazy.

And as simple as that, Shana becomes her best friend.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Pam Fields and Emily Fields come to the DiLaurentiis a few times. The first time they come, Mrs. Fields comes with baked cookies, another time, baked bread, and another time, <em>foie gras<em>. She thinks her mother doesn't really like the company – especially now that she is busy sorting things out with her grandmother's will and the businesses she left to her and the other things that she needs to attend to. But Mrs. Fields seems genuinely concerned and wants to help, so each time she and her daughter drop by, Jessica lets them in and entertains them in the living room or in the kitchen, chatting with Mrs. Fields over coffee or tea and biscuits. Once, when Mrs. Fields and her daughter leave, Ali asks, "You don't like them much, do you?"

Jessica looks at her then and says, "It's not that, Ali...It's..." She struggles to find the right word and settles for, "I'm just very busy these days and just don't have the time to sit down for a little chit-chat with the neighbors."

"So how come you keep inviting them in?" Ali asks, puzzled. "You could just say you're busy or something."

Jessica looks at her patiently, although there is a bit of exasperation in her demeanor. She sighs. "Because it would be rude, Ali, to tell people who just want to help that you're busy and you're not interested to talk to them."

"So, you're kind of lying and not telling them the truth and stuff," Ali says.

Jessica shrugs. "Some day, honey, you'll know that sometimes, you have to do a bit of lying to keep from hurting people, especially the ones you love."

"So it's okay to lie?"

"No, it's not. But sometimes you have to," Jessica says. "But if I ever catch you lying to me, Ali, so help me god, I will ground you til you're sixty."

Ali grins. "Whatever, mom."

She sees Emily at school sometimes. They're in the same grade, but in different classes, and sometimes, Emily comes up to her to offer her food, in front of Shana, Jenna, Jenna's new friend, Mona, and Ben and Lucas, and Ali gets embarrassed. Emily gives her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, freshly-baked cookies her mom baked, sour patch kids, an apple or two, an orange. Ali gives it to her friends over lunch, refuses to eat them, or when she's in a particularly bad mood, throws them out in the garbage.

Once, Emily catches her throwing out what is left of the cookies Emily's mother baked, in the garbage can, and Emily comes up to her and demands to know why. "You don't like them?"

Ali fidgets. "Um...I tried to eat all of it...but my stomach kind of...turned funny and..."

"You don't like them," Emily repeats, this time a statement, rather than a question.

Ali turns red, embarrassed, and is about to say something when Emily cuts her off. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I..."

Emily doesn't let her finish. There is a look in her eyes that Ali hasn't seen before. She turns around and walks away and doesn't talk to Ali.

Ali is relieved then. It would mean not having to lie or put up with the pity and the unbearable kindness people are offering her, because her parents are divorcing and her grandmother just died, but she is surprised one day when she comes home from school and her mother tells her they are having dinner at the Fields.

"But why?" she asks, annoyed.

"Ali, don't fight me on this," her mother had said. "Just get dressed."

"But I don't want to go," Ali says. What she doesn't say is she's hungry and tired and really not in the mood to be on her best behavior.

Her mother sighs. "Please, Ali. This is a small town, everyone knows everyone else, we could use a few friends in this town."

And so she ends up going with her mother to have dinner with the Fields, which consists of Mrs. Fields, Emily and Mrs. Pam Fields' mother, Mrs. Martinez, who is visiting the Fields from Canada, where Mrs. Fields was born. Emily had grown up in Canada, Mrs. Fields explains, and Ali thinks this is the reason why sometimes Emily gets teased for speaking funny sometimes.

Emily's grandmother, Mrs. Martinez, is a small, middle-aged, staunchly Catholic woman with brown, leathery skin and white hair streaked with gray. She speaks with a strong, delightful accent with rolling "r"s and strong "p"s and "t"s, spoken in a sing-song voice, has an easy smile and seems very relaxed. She has worked as a nurse for a long time, she tells Ali and her mother and is glad to be here, to visit her daughter and granddaughter. Mrs. Martinez cooks dinner with Mrs. Fields, some Asian dish called "_chicken_ _adobo_", which is chicken and potatoes with soy sauce and vinegar ("We love our soy sauce!" Mrs. Martinez says, while Emily hangs in the background, looking either confused or embarrassed or both), "_pansit_" which is some kind of Asian noodles with vegetables ("We love our noodles!" Mrs. Martinez comments with a grin), spring rolls, dumplings, some kind of soup with chicken feet in them, _empanadas, torta _and fried sliced pieces of tofu. "They are very simple to cook," Mrs. Martinez explains. "Anyone can cook them."

Jessica smiles and says, "It's usually the simplest dishes that are the hardest."

"That is true," Mrs. Martinez concedes.

"You have to pay attention to every little detail in order to get the dish right," Jessica adds.

Mrs. Martinez looks pleased. She turns to Ali, smiles, and says, "Tell me, do you like living in Rosewood?"

Ali feels a fleeting irritation over the question. A lot of people have asked her that, and it wasn't only because a lot of people ask her that, and it feels so ordinary and pointless to ask a question like that, but because she never knows how to answer it. Especially now because her mother is within earshot and is probably listening to their conversation, despite the fact that she is deep in conversation with Mrs. Fields. If somebody does not like living somewhere, then that means they are trapped by their situation and she didn't want to either embarrass her mother or make her sad by that answer. She has also noticed that some Americans tend to believe that everybody, deep inside, wants to live in America. A lot of people had told her she was lucky to have been given a chance to live in America upon learning that she had been born in and grew up in Africa. She could not count the times people shuddered at the thought of her having come from Africa. People would say, "Isn't there a war going over there right now?" "Isn't there a drought there right now?" "But people have AIDS there." "But you're _white_. How can you be African?" and so on. What she finds is that she cannot actually say whether she likes living in America or not. It's neither here nor there. She misses Africa still, and living in America has its advantages, but everything looks so orderly and clean and safe and _boring_ for her.

But she doesn't want to disappoint her mother, Mrs. Fields and Mrs. Martinez, so she says, "Yeah, sure. I like it."

Mrs. Martinez nods, satisfied with her answer, and says, "You are lucky to be here. Can you imagine growing up in Africa?"

Ali purses her lips, about to say something, but her mother is looking at her, with a warning look in her eyes, and so she only bows her head, biting her lip so as to not say anything. She's been told by her mother enough times that she should think first before she says anything, as she tends to say the first thing that comes to her mind.

Later, when Mrs. Martinez serves the dishes on the table, with everyone seated at the table, she jokes, "Emily does not like soy sauce, she thinks it might stain her skin darker or something" and Emily blushes, not knowing what to say. Mrs. Martinez turns to Emily then and says, "Or chicken feet for that matter. I think you are embarrassed about your heritage, no?"

"Grandma, sometimes, I just want to eat something that doesn't have chicken feet in them," Emily says, in exasperation and shame.

Mrs. Martinez just looks at Emily in amusement and smiles fondly at her granddaughter as Emily continues, "There's this thing they eat back home, it's a boiled duck egg..."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Ali comments.

Emily says, "Yeah, but it's like a duck fetus egg...and they eat it like that. With all its limbs and feathers and everything."

Mrs. Martinez says, "Yes, she tried to eat one of those once, and she nearly passed away."

"Passed away?" Ali asks, puzzled.

Emily looks at her grandmother. "_Grandma_," she says in exasperation. "It's passed _out_."

Ali looks from grandmother to granddaughter and can't help but smile. "Emily, you're speaking Canadian again."

Emily blushes. "Whatever. It's disgusting. And don't get me started on the fish sauce and fried dried fish that grandma and mommy seem to really like. It smells _really_ funny."

Ali only grins. "I'm from Africa. We eat ostrich eggs...and stuff."

Emily makes a face.

Mrs. Martinez laughs. "I like you."

Ali doesn't know why, but she thinks she likes Mrs. Martinez. The dinner is interesting, dominated by Mrs. Martinez asking Ali and her mother questions about Africa, about their life there, about school. Later, they retreat to the living room where Mrs. Martinez insists she has to catch her favorite telenovelas on cable.

"You have to pay for it special if you want to get the channel," Mrs. Martinez informs Ali, "I made Pam get one because it is nice. It will help Emily learn how to speak the language so when she goes home she can speak something other than English. You speak Afrikaans, Alison, no?" When Ali nods, Mrs. Martinez looks impressed. She turns to Emily then and says, "Now, why can you not be like your friend, she can speak Afrikaans."

Emily looks at her grandmother, confused. "I don't speak Afrikaans. In fact, I can't."

Mrs. Martinez shakes her head. "Do not get fresh with me, young lady." She turns to Ali again and says, "These young people, they come here and forget who they are and so they do not know who they are and they do not know what to do with their lives and destroy them. It is terrible! Terrible!" She turns to the television, watches for a few minutes, before she turns to Ali again and says, "If you turn your back on your past and deny where you came from, then how will you know where you are going?"

Ali nods, thinking about it. She likes that Mrs. Martinez talks to her like she's a total grown-up. They spend the evening watching _telenovelas_, Mrs. Martinez patiently explaining that the rich boy in the show fell in love with the poor girl and they have an illicit affair that results in a baby girl that the rich boy doesn't know about, and that the rich boy eventually marries another rich girl and they have a son who falls in love with the daughter of the rich boy's first love. Ali can see her mother wanting to keep Ali away from Mrs. Martinez's _telenovela_, Ali already knows her mother thinks it's too grown-up for her, but she can see Mrs. Fields reassuring her mother that it's fine, so she gets to sit beside Mrs. Martinez watching the soap, with Mrs. Martinez patiently translating beside her. She doesn't really need a lot of translating, she can pretty much understand a bit of what is going on. It reminds her of the kind of television soaps she watches back home anyway, with Nora, when her mother is away.

Emily is sitting in one corner, trying not to sulk and failing, and her mother and Mrs. Fields are in the other corner, talking over cups of tea.

Once the show is over, Ali and her mother thank Mrs. Martinez and the Fields and Ali feels even better. Mrs. Martinez reminds her a bit of her own grandmother, and there is some comfort in there, too, like she can see her grandmother everywhere.

* * *

><p>It takes awhile, but by the middle of the next school year, her parents' divorce is made final. Peter Hastings comes to their house to inform her.<p>

Peter Hastings comes to the house to sort all sorts of things for Ali's mother. The house and the grounds surrounding it are all left to Ali's mom, as are the family businesses - the chocolate factory, the steel mill and the real estate agency. There are clients who visit as well, and Ali sees her mother giving them advice. She picks things up from her mother giving advice to clients, especially those about to sell their houses – during viewing time, when everything is on show, one had to be tidy. Once, she hears her mom advice a middle-aged couple looking to sell their house so they can move to Florida, that there should ideally be the smell of newly baked bread when prospective buyers come in. "It will make them feel positive about the house," she'd advised the couple. Once, she hears her mother warn clients interested in selling their houses, "Many people will come around your house, some of them without even the slightest intention of buying it. They'll just have a look around, ask about prices, comment about décor, and so on, but won't even buy the house after. They'll just want to see what the inside of your house looks like. Some will be rude, a lot of them will be unlikeable people – some will be nice enough. You'll have to consider these things when you're selling the house. Eventually, you'll find the perfect buyer though, so don't lose hope. With the housing market as it is though...it might take a while..." And Ali had been impressed by this – by this side of her mother she hadn't seen in Africa before. In Africa, her mother had stayed at home and taken care of her and the household, whereas here, she not only takes care of Ali and the household, but she takes care of business as well. Ali sees her mother change from mother and housewife to businesswoman, tall and commanding, business-like and no-nonsense, arguing with clients, bankers, investors, even Peter Hastings. She develops more respect for this woman she'd never seen before. There is a firmness,a determined look to her that Ali begins to associate with her mother more and more.

The house itself has changed. She had hired a gardener to trim the lawn in the yard, prune the bushes, cut off dead branches from the trees, clean the backyard. She'd supervised Nora and a couple of people as they did some spring cleaning of the large house, throwing Ali's grandmother's bric-a-brac, except for the books that Ali had found in the attic, the Dr. Seuss books, Charles Dickens' "Great Expectations", "A Tale of Two Cities" and "Oliver Twist", Nabokov's "Lolita" (although her mother had bristled at her insisting she keep Nabokov and they'd compromised and they agreed Ali can read it when she is older), Herman Melville's "Moby Dick", Lois Lowry's "The Giver", Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Scarlet Letter", a collection of Shakespeare's works – sonnets and plays, some Russian and French novels. Ali and Jessica had argued over the appropriateness of the books, and Ali had only agreed to surrender the more inappropriate ones to her mother. Her mother will keep them and she can read them when she is older. This entails her mother promising to buy her the complete set of Harry Potter books, "Chronicles of Narnia" and "Lord of the Rings". Ali smiles, pleased.

Her mother cleans out the attic, her grandmother's former room, the guest rooms, the storage room at the back, the garage. She'd overheard her mother once telling Nora, "I need to sort everything out. We've...my mother...accumulated so much stuff here and it's so hard to throw it away. Or at least I find it hard. It's like throwing away one's past."

Nora had nodded then, in sympathy and understanding. "Sometimes it's good to do that. To get rid of everything. It's very cathartic."

Cathartic. She'd looked it up after. Her mother and Nora and the others sometimes use big words, and she finds herself glancing at the thick, old Webster's dictionary she'd found in the attic. She'd put an "x" on the word she's learned, like "cathartic" and writes it down in a notebook, to be used when writing in her diary or when speaking to other people. She keeps a diary now. The therapist, which her mother insisted she see, at the suggestion of Mr. Hastings, encourages her to write down her thoughts and she does, and she hides her diary in a loose floorboard under her bed in her room and digs it out at night to write down her thoughts.

Some of the other kids still think she talks funny, but not because she has an accent, which she's lost after only a few months in Rosewood, but because she uses big words only the teacher and Spencer and sometimes Lucas, seem to know. She likes it though. She's good at words and her teacher tells her she's just going to get better at it as she gets older.

Anyway, she remembers her mother telling Nora, "But don't you think it's a bit strange to be throwing all these little things that make up our lives? All those things I found in the attic – that's most of my childhood, my adolescence, parts of my youth before I married Kenneth. It's just so hard to throw them away."

Nora had shrugged then and said, "Everything has its associations, painful or otherwise."

And so, slowly, the house, everything in it, the furnishings, the carpets, all threadbare and worn, old and faded with age, change. Jessica hires a decorator and the house is splashed with color and renewed texture, the dampness and fustiness filled now with warmth and light, lending the house a soft quality, a sort of luminescence, which made the house glow.

Her mother and Nora have also started a garden in the back. There'd been a garden there before, Nora had explained, but no one had maintained it, especially after Jessica's mother had fallen ill. But now, they'd weeded it out, put in roses and hydrangeas, azaleas and lilies and the garden now looks beautiful.

* * *

><p>After much arguing with Mr. Hastings, her mother considers fixing up the house a bit more.<p>

"Your chimney's crumbling," Mr. Hastings had once pointed it out to her mother. "Your gutters and your roof needs some repairing. The house needs a bit of repainting, too..."

Her mother had shrugged then. "It's not that simple. In the first place, I don't have that much. Even with the divorce and alimony, it's not going to amount to much, since Ken and I decided Ali's future comes first. And in the second place, I don't like wasting it."

Mr. Hastings had looked at Jessica's mother then and apologized. "But don't let things go with the house. Don't wait til the last minute to have things repaired."

Jessica had shrugged. "It doesn't matter. If the ceiling falls down, then I'd have gained a courtyard."

Mr. Hastings shakes his head in frustration and amusement at Jessica.

She sees Mr. Hastings and her mom once, talking to each other in low voices in the living room or in the office and she hears Mr. Hastings say things like, "...Losing money...with your mother ill all these years and nobody actually managing it, it hasn't been earning as much as it should...the real estate market isn't like it used to be...the subprime mortgage crisis isn't doing us any favors...this house has just been sitting here just..."

"Are you saying I'm on the brink of bankruptcy?" her mother asks Mr. Hastings.

Mr. Hastings looks at her and says, "No...but close to it."

Her mother sighs. "I told mother we should have sold everything when we had the chance. I didn't want any part of this..."

"We could still do something about this..."

"I don't want to be a part of something that makes people lose their jobs..."

"It's the only way. Some corporate restructuring, streamlining things...with a little tweak here and there...we might just save most of your family's legacy."

Her mother looks at Mr. Hastings. "You're asking me to fire people, Peter. People with wives, and children...People who rely on us for a living..."

Mr. Hastings cuts her off. "You can't afford to develop some kind of moral conscience or guilt over this, Jessica. You have your own problems, too. You've got hospital bills to pay. You've got Alison to think of. And college? That's not going to come cheap. You're going to need all the help you can get."

"Peter..."

"Just...it's not wrong to ask for help, Jessica," Mr. Hastings says, irritation in his voice. Ali's mom doesn't say anything. "Let me help you, Jessica."

Ali's mom is shaking her head. "It's fine." Mr. Hastings reaches for Ali's mom's hand, but she pulls her hand away and says, business-like, "Is there any other option on this? At least to reduce the number of people we will eventually lay off because of this...problem we're having with production and supply and demand and profit margins and..."

Mr. Hastings nods. "Yes...we might think about..."

Ali moves away then, leaving them in the living room to discuss business.

* * *

><p>Mr. Hastings continues to be a visitor in the DiLaurentiis house and Ali continues to ignore Spencer when she is around. Sometimes, for some strange reason, Melissa is around, too, to pick Spencer up, and Melissa is with her friend, some annoying blond teenaged girl named Kate Randall and all they ever do together is talk about boys and make-up and shopping.<p>

The school year rolls around and she turns eight and her mother and Mr. Hastings take her out to dinner with Spencer. She and Spencer wonder why they all have to go to dinner together, but it is a decent one.

Summer comes and goes and before she knows it, she's nine and she comes home one day from school to overhear her mother and Peter Hastings talking in the living room.

"...Jessica, it's been ages..." she hears Mr. Hastings say. "Why don't you give me a chance..."

"But Alison..."

"Alison will understand..."

"I don't want to hurt her," her mother says. "She's really close to her dad and...she'll never forgive me..."

There is a silence that follows. For a few minutes, Mr. Hastings doesn't say anything, before he speaks up. "Some day you'll just have to realize that you can't keep putting other people's needs first before yours. You have a right to be happy, too, you know."

"Peter, let's not talk about this right now," Jessica says. "This is not the right time. Ali will be home any minute now..."

"Well, when then?"

"When what?"

"When's the right time, Jessica? It was never the right time before you left...it's not the right time now...So when _is_ the right time to talk about this? You know there's something there, you can't deny it."

"Peter, don't start," her mother replies quickly. "I wasn't the one who chose to leave first..."

"Jessica...What do you want me to say?"

"It's fine. It's over. We can't turn back time or change the past..."

"But we can change the present...and the future..."

"Let's just drop it, Peter."

Ali quietly tiptoes to the kitchen, where Nora is.

Ali wonders what her mother and Mr. Hastings are talking about.

She thinks maybe she doesn't want to know what they are talking about.

* * *

><p>By third grade, Ali has already adjusted to life in Rosewood. Her father still visits her once in a while but on the whole she senses that she will stay in America longer, maybe even for good. She hopes one day to visit Africa again, but now, it seems is not the time. Sometimes, she watches the news and hears news about South Africa, or listens to music on her computer and hears African music and she is instantly transported to Africa. Whenever she hears African music, she pauses and listens, closes her eyes. There is something about this music that affects her strongly; perhaps because it comes from such a particular place, and reminds her of an earlier time, of an earlier childhood. It is not, could not be, music from anywhere else. It is the music of the Africa she loves, of the continent she will always yearn for. She finds herself wondering, during these times, about Africa. What is Africa to her? What did it mean to her? She knows she will not stop wanting to go back to Africa, to see her father, and her family and everyone else, particularly because it is such a beautiful continent, and then she feels something, like a stab in her heart and wishes sometimes that things are different, but knows they can't be and so she is stuck in the middle.<p>

She already has a set group of friends – Shana, Lucas and Ben. She doesn't really consider Jenna her friend, but Shana likes to hang out with her, so she tolerates her for Shana's sake. She and Emily still see each other in Sunday School and at Rosewood Elementary, and sometimes she and her mother go to the Fields' for dinner with Mrs. Martinez, but it isn't as often, even though she enjoys Mrs. Martinez's company. As for Spencer, she sees her even more as Peter Hastings meets with her mother even more. They have dinners together, sometimes with Melissa and Jason when they come home for the weekend from Penn, or spring break, summers and holidays.

One morning before she goes to school, she catches Mr. Hastings in the kitchen with her mother, just talking. Mr. Hastings is in a shirt and jeans, and her mother is in a robe. There is something with the way they are acting with each other that's a bit strange for Ali but she can't quite put her finger on it.

She decides not to think about it for now, because there is a war in Iraq and Afghanistan and it's all over the news and she remembers the Sunday School girl, Emily Fields and how her father is in Afghanistan now. She doesn't know why Emily is the first thought that comes to mind. Mr. Hastings drives her to school, picking Spencer up along the way. She and Spencer have reached a truce, though they still don't consider themselves as friends. They are in the same grade, but not the same class. Spencer gets good grades in school, and has received numerous awards. She also plays piano and sings. She and Ali have that much in common, so in some respects there is a grudging respect that they have for each other.

At school she sees Emily Fields walking to her classroom. She looks sad, like she has a lot on her mind. Ali remembers how she acted around Emily when her grandmother had died and the subsequent times she and her mother had been over at the Fields' house for dinner. Ali hadn't been entirely rude to Emily then, and she'd liked her enough the first time she met her, but Ali had, since then, developed a kind of envy, a resentment, towards Emily for what she has, that Ali can't have now.

Emily is with Hannah, the girl from the funeral, who she now knows is Melissa's friend Kate's stepsister.

Ali remembers Hannah then because whenever Melissa and Kate are around, all Kate ever talks about is how much she hates her dad's new family, how she hates Hannah and her mother, Ashley because her dad seems to adore both of them and Kate hates that. Once, in the country club, she overhears Melissa tell Kate in the lockers, "...Yeah, I know what you mean. If my dad ever marries that woman, I'd be stuck with a stepsister I don't like."

"Alison?"

"Yeah."

"She's creepy. Like...that kid from 'The Omen' or 'The Sixth Sense' or 'The Others' or 'The Shining' or something."

"Right?" she hears Melissa say. "I don't see what my dad sees in her mom. Her mom's kind of creepy, too. And she kind of never smiles. She freaks me out."

"I don't know. Mrs. DiLaurentiis is kind of pretty. And whatever you have to say about the kid, she's kind of pretty, too. She's just going to get prettier as she grows up. I can imagine all the boys lining up and down the street just to ask her out on a date or to the prom or something. I mean, isn't she kind of popular now?"

Melissa snorts. "Whatever. I don't like them."

Kate sighs. "Sucks to be you. Although whether you like them or not, I don't think you have a choice. The heart wants what the heart wants."

Ali hears all of this and she feels sad. She likes Melissa. She's pretty and older and she has smooth skin and pretty eyes and she wonders why she can't just like Ali.

She wonders about what they are talking about. Stepsister? Would that mean her mother and Melissa and Spencer's father are going to get married? Did that mean her mother cares for their father? She doesn't know about having Melissa and Spencer as her stepsisters, she's always been an only child and she doesn't know about sharing anything – a room, her food, her clothes, everything else. But Melissa is all grown-up now and in college, so she thinks maybe she doesn't have to share anything with Melissa. Spencer though is her age so she thinks maybe she has to. She likes Jason though. Jason is older and strong and nice and gives her gifts and has this soft look on his face whenever he sees her, as if there's no one else he'd rather be with than her, as if she's his sister, and not Spencer and Melissa.

Before she knows it, she's right in front of Emily and bumping into her and papers and textbooks and notebooks and pens are flying around and the other kids are passing them by, bumping into them and they both kneel down and start apologizing to each other. She doesn't know who bumped who first, but Emily doesn't seem to mind or care. Hannah is kneeling beside Emily, looking at Ali when she thinks the other girl isn't looking.

She hears Hannah whisper to Emily, with awe in her voice, "You _know_ Alison DiLaurentiis? She's like...so popular and pretty and stuff..."

Ali is surprised at this. She doesn't think of herself as neither popular or unpopular. But she looks at Hannah, with her chubby face and her chubby body and braces and her pudgy fingers and her pigtails and her overly large frumpy clothes and Ali can understand why she would think Ali is popular. Does she look rich? Ali wonders. There's a rich look, she knows, but she doesn't think she has it. It's a confidence, maybe, she thinks, a confidence that comes with not being anxious, of having a well-tended air, something the other kids sometimes mistake as her being stuck-up, being a snob. She wonders why Hannah would think that though, since her parents are not together anymore and her grandmother is dead and her mother seems to be struggling with some things she can't quite put her finger on.

Out of the blue, Ali asks, "How are you?"

Emily seems surprised by this, looks up and says, "I'm...fine, I guess..."

"Is your father still in..."

Emily is nodding before Ali even finishes the sentence. "Yes."

Ali sees the tears form in Emily's eyes. In that instant, all Ali can think of is her own father, out in Africa, all alone, away from her, and suddenly there is something that she and Emily have in common. She knows what Emily feels – the sadness, the fear, the worry, that maybe her father may not be coming home ever again. She doesn't know what to say. There is a war, she knows, but this is so far away from her life in Rosewood, that she's not really interested in it. It feels abstract, far removed from her. But here is a girl, a pretty girl, with dark hair and tan skin and tearful, almond-shaped eyes and she realizes here is a real person affected by the war. She doesn't know what to say, but later, at lunch time, when she sees Emily with her lunch tray looking for a table to sit down on, Ali offers her table with Shana, Jenna, Lucas and Ben. Emily looks at her with such gratitude in her eyes that Ali thinks maybe it would be worth it just to make this girl smile all the time.

But then Shana leans over and whispers, "Who is _that_?"

Ali looks at her, puzzled, and says, "That's...Emily. Fields. Why?"

"Could you maybe introduce her to me or something?" Shana whispers again. "She's _really_ cute."

Ali just stares at Shana then, in disbelief, and Shana stares back, saying, "What?"

She just shakes her head and introduces a delighted Shana to Emily.

* * *

><p>Ali's mother holds a party for her tenth birthday. Ali doesn't want to, Jessica tells her with a smile, "You only turn ten once" but Ali doesn't see anything special with ten, and anyway, even though the other kids at Rosewood like her enough, she doesn't want everyone at school coming to her house. But her mother insists, and with Mr. Hastings' help and Nora's, they hold it in the backyard, with a clown and a magician playing tricks and a bouncing castle, a huge birthday cake, chicken nuggets and spaghetti, balloons, party hats, streamers and a large poster with her face on it, that read, "Happy tenth birthday, Ali!" Most of the kids she knows at school come. Her best friend Shana comes, and so does Jenna and Mona, Lucas and Ben, Emily and Hannah and of course, Spencer. Shana starts to get nervous when she spots Emily and Ali hisses, "Stop that. Emily will think you're a dork. Which you are, by the way." Shana just glares at her, but tries to stop when Emily is around, looking all shy and demure and dorky and Ali rolls her eyes and tells her, "You're an idiot, you know that?"<p>

The party is a success. It had been fun and the weather was fine and it was the most-talked about party when everyone invited goes back to school after the weekend. Towards the evening of the party, when Ali's acquaintances go home, her friends – Shana, Jenna, Mona, Lucas, Ben, and at Shana's insistence, Emily and Hannah, stay to hang out for a bit playing "seven minutes in heaven" in the basement. It had been Shana's idea, in a vain attempt to get Emily in a closet or some room where she can talk to Emily. Ali rolls her eyes but she manages to wrangle her friends into the basement and send everyone else away. Except for Spencer, who comes, curious at what they are doing. Ali wants to send her away, and tells her, "It's just me and my friends" but then Spencer's face falls and Ali immediately feels guilty. So she ends up taking Spencer along, and a boy Spencer had just met, a boy with thick, wavy hair named Toby Kavanaugh.

They sit around in a circle and spin a bottle, and at first, Jenna and then Toby find themselves in the closet for seven minutes, then Hannah and Lucas, then, much to Shana's disappointment, Emily and Ben. So everyone is paired off and locked in the closet. Each time, Ali watches everyone disappear into the closet, and emerge seven minutes after. Both Jenna and Toby come out of the closet blushing, to the cheers of the others. Hannah and Lucas come out, not speaking to each other, and sitting awkwardly away from each other and later, Emily and Ben, Ben smiling sheepishly, Emily looking shy and embarrassed. Both Ali and Spencer refuse to participate. Shana just looks upset and mutinous and sulks for the whole game. Ali doesn't really care for the game, or for boys, for that matter. She finds boys uninteresting and incredibly wild. They smell funny, too, she thinks. She finds them boring really, and why the other girls seem interested in them is beyond her.

After seven minutes in heaven, they play a game of "Truth or Dare", where Lucas admits he has a crush on Hannah, and Ben admits he likes Emily. Hannah looks pleased. Emily is blushing and looking all shy. Toby says he likes someone else. All the kids, except for Shana, who is sleeping over at Ali's house, go home after.

In Ali's room, Shana continues to sulk. After enduring talking to Shana without the other one answering, Ali says, "What is your problem, Shana?"

Shana refuses to answer, and instead sits by the window, looking out and sulking.

When Shana doesn't speak, Ali continues, "Because if you're going to be like this the whole night, I'm going to stay in the guest room and you can sleep here on your own. Alone. With no one to talk to."

She waits for a beat. Shana doesn't say anything for a few moments, before she hesitantly says, "She likes somebody else."

Ali looks at her, confused. "Who?"

Shana turns to her. She hesitates, before she says, "Emily."

Ali sighs, puts her hands on her hips and says, "Is this what this is all about? Emily?"

Shana sighs, looks away before she says, "I knew you wouldn't understand."

Ali rolls her eyes. "Well, yeah, I don't. Everyone has a crush on her and stuff. And I don't get that. Plus, hello? She's a _girl_."

"I know." Shana's voice is soft.

When Shana is still silent, a sad look on her face, Ali stops, looks at her and says, "You like her, don't you?"

Shana nods.

"But she doesn't like you back."

Shana shakes her head.

"You..._like_ girls?" Ali asks. "Like, like-_like _girls?"

Shana doesn't say anything at first. Then she speaks up. "Yeah. Like...when a boy likes a girl. And has a crush on her and stuff. I've kind of...always felt this way...even before...I kind of just like girls..." She looks up at Ali then. "Are you disgusted? Do you hate me?"

Ali stands there, not knowing what to say. Shana's her friend, her _best _friend. Shana's always been there for her. She's never let her down. She doesn't really understand how Shana, who is a girl, can like another girl. It feels wrong somehow. Feels like it shouldn't be. But Shana's like family to her, and she doesn't want to hurt her feelings. And she wants her to be happy. So she shakes her head and says, "No."

The other reason she says "no" is also because, she thinks sometimes, maybe, she likes girls, too.


End file.
